


Above All Else

by iamtheprophet_chuck



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s02e01 In My Time of Dying, Gen, In My Time of Dying, M/M, Wincest if you squint, un-beta'd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 12:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamtheprophet_chuck/pseuds/iamtheprophet_chuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Dean came back from the dead he didn't do it for himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Above All Else

**Author's Note:**

> So um, hi. This is my first fanfic um... ever? I just have a lot of feelings about In My Time Of Dying, and needed to share. Please comment!

Sam always knew Dean was strong.  Knew he was strong enough to transcend his broken hospitalized body to communicate via Ouija board on the floor.  Knew he was strong enough to fight off the reaper who was coming after him long enough for Sam to find a cure.  Knew he was strong enough to find a way back into his body come hell or… well, hell. 

What Sam didn’t know, is that Dean—young, selfless, precious Dean Winchester—before he was saved by a witch masquerading as a moral crusader with a reaper on a leash, before he was gripped tight and raised from perdition by the only being who could rival him in self-hatred and guilt, before he clawed his way out of the grave and purgatory, was tired.  Dean, at twenty-seven years old, was already an old man.  He had been a father, mother, big brother, mentor, and counselor to Sam since before 1st Grade.  And he had never complained.  Well, not after John beat his 8-year-old ass the one time Dean suggested he asked for too much.  Never again did Dean think to say “No,” or even dare to ask for help from his father.  He had spent at least twice as much time playacting at being a father than John had since Mary’s death.

And Sam, sweet naive Sammy, who would have his brother around off-and-on for at least another 6 years, could not possibly fathom the extent to which Dean was bone-weary.  He could only see the strength that Dean had shown him; the mulish stubbornness behind his eyes as he forged onward.  So when Dean’s younger brother, for that is who he was in Dean’s eyes always—never Sam, a boy; or Sam, an adolescent; or Sam, a man—returned to Dean’s bedside angry at John for hiding things from him, for not expressing himself in the way Sam demanded, he did not think for one second that Dean was not there listening to him, demanding that he hang on so Sam could get him back again.

No, Dean—for the first time since he had dragged Sam back into the godforsaken “Family Business”—was not there to listen to his brother cry, to comfort him, to bring him peace.  Because he was listening to a Reaper spin him truths he didn’t want to hear.  The mysterious world beyond.  Better or worse? She wouldn’t say.  Only that it was not here.  And that it was his destiny, his time to die.  She was not the most comforting way Dean envisioned greeting death.  In fact, he wished—knowing Death later as he does—that The Man himself had been there that day.  Because perhaps Dean wouldn’t have dawdled so long in his decision.  Perhaps Dean would have walked toward the light, and never looked back.  Perhaps John would still be alive hunting that Yellow-Eyed bastard, and Sam would have hardened into a shell of himself beside his father, burning solely on the bittersweet promises of revenge.

Dean would one day soon sell his soul to bring Sam back from the dead.  The one known universally acknowledged truth of his world had always been that Sammy came first.  And it was because Sam needed him that Dean could feel no anger toward him as he gasped awake inside his healed body, bones mended and abrasions vanished.  Dean only stared blankly into Sam’s eyes as Sam recounted the events of the last days—Dean communicating from him incorporeally, the reaper he told Sam about, John’s death.  Dean could only feign ignorance to mask the pain, to try and stop his heart from breaking.  Trying not to think about how he might have found peace beyond the veil.  He might have seen Mary.  He might never have known the guilt of coming to life over and over at the expense of others.  He might never have known the overwhelming guilt of getting Sam killed, or the pain of Hell’s torture.  He might never have met his Angel, or lost him so many times he lost track.  But Dean looked into his brother’s eyes and saw that Sam was safe, protected, and happy.  And that was all that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!! xoxo
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [castielslittleabomination](http://iamtheprophetchuck.co.vu)


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